Britin's First Christmas
by shaunalease1
Summary: Brian and Justin centric. First Christmas at Britin. Post Series, AU. Justin lives in New York, Brian still in Pittsburgh. Brian's not quite a Scrooge, but definitely not for Christmas. Will a certain blonde come home before Brian gives up on Christmas and all happy endings forever?
1. No Home-O Christmas

"Britin's First Christmas"

Shauna Fletcher

A Brian and Justin Fan Fiction

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters nor do I presume to do so.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is AU Post-Series 5. Brian and Justin are broken up and live in separate states.

**CHAPTER ONE**: No Home-O Christmas

December 22nd. Three days before the dreaded holiday known as Christmas. As If I gave a shit (I didn't). You wouldn't see me caught dead with a forest green laced with "pretty" lights resembling gay pride rainbows that you see at all the Pride Fests in the whole fucking world. No sir-ee, not as long as I owned the high-riser loft in Pittsburgh. The fireplace won't be bustling and crackling below stockings made out of felt full of cheap knickknacks.

From my vantage point, or my barely-there vantage point due to the existence of an obstruction blocking my view of the fireplace, said fireplace was inactive and bare. The obstruction I referred to, on the other hand, is a sight for sore eyes, or my sore cock. The guy I was fucking for the last hour's blonde incandescent hair prevented me from seeing that dark firewood storage. I had no visions of Justin dancing in my head, nor of sugarplum fairies; just this one fairy who I was about to kick out of my loft.

I wasn't a complete Scrooge, I wouldn't be that impolite. I decide to stir the sleeping form whose name I had long forgotten. Either that or I had never learned what it was. I nudged him awake with my right foot which was previously buried under my duvet, to tap him on his left shoulder. He groaned as if awaking from a longer slumber than it really was. An hour, give or take a few minutes, more or less. Whatever the fuck. I still never let anyone stay the night.

"Hey, I'd like to be alone now if you don't mind."

"What the fuck?" The guy who could not be named responded, obviously annoyed.

"Hey, don't feel so bad," I pat him on the left shoulder again, this time with my hand.

"Usually I tell my guests to get the fuck out. But since it's Christmas, or almost, anyways, I'll just say sayonara and ask you to leave. Nicely," I continued while rolling my lower lip up into my upper one, my usual mannerism.

"Whatever." Nameless trick turned to pick up his clothes. His body wasn't half bad, I thought to myself. It could never compare to Justin's though, no one's could. Not that I was thinking that or anything. I'm not a lesbian.

I flashed back to the night's prior events. He was a hot fuck. I fucked him six ways to Sunday before we both passed out. My stamina was not dwindling. I refused to believe that.

When Justin was there, it was always hot and frequent. He almost wore me out a few times, but I could keep up with him for the most part. He had been gone for 8 months. 8 long months since our almost marriage. Lindsay would say he saved me from becoming a eunuch. Marriage, hah, who was I kidding, Lindsay thought. She knew me as everyone else in my inner circle knew me, as Brian Fucking Kinney, the Kinney everyone knew and loved, even Justin. It's not that I didn't want to be that anymore, it's that I didn't have to be. I was fine being Justin's and Justin's alone. It was everyone else who wasn't okay with that.

I wanted to tell Justin that several times, but with me being nearly inept at telling him those three little words that I've always been able to say to Michael, I felt that I had no right to tell him that monogamy didn't faze me as much as it used to. I had no right to burst everyone else's preconceived bubble that they believed I fit into. After Justin left, however, I realized, who are they to keep me in that bubble? I was always in control, or so I thought. No one could hold me down. Then, why, was that exactly what they did?

I was brought back to reality when I realized blondie hadn't left my loft. He was getting something to drink as if he was making himself at home. Hell, I didn't really count it as home anymore. I still owned the house, and mainly resided there, but I didn't fuck anyone in the house. It was Justin's house and that was just something I could not and would not do. I got up off the bed and headed over to the kitchen.

"I thought I asked you to leave. I guess niceness doesn't really work."

"Jesus, it worked. I'm just thirsty. Mind if I take a tomato juice on the go?"

"Sure. As long as you do the going part." I looked down and sighed.

"You act like you like being alone, unless you want a fuck."

"I do. Now beat it." I didn't mind the guy so much. I think he knew it, too, but he had to leave.

They all leave eventually anyways. Hell, even Lindsay left and I definitely wasn't thinking of that as a possibility. When it happened I was shocked. Justin, Lindsay, Gus, all gone while I remained. Why did they get to go live their dreams while I was stuck in Pittsburgh, alone. Sure, I was successful. Kinnetic was thriving. It was my dream to conquer New York, which Justin was doing. Everything else moved, while I stayed stationary, unmoving, un_willing_ to move. Although I highly suspected that I was more willing than ever.

The guy took his tomato juice and I barely noticed he had left until I heard the loft door close. I was alone again. I wondered if Justin was alone and if he missed me as much as I missed him. Three days till Christmas with nothing to look forward to. Might as well have been 300 days till Christmas. Again, I thought, whatever the fuck. There would be no celebrations with mistletoe. There was no one I was remotely willing to kiss. Even though my arrangement basically ended with Justin, I no longer kissed anyone on the mouth. That's another thing I gave up for him. I walked back to my bed and plopped onto it. I didn't have anything else to do, except wait for Christmas to come and go.


	2. Wor-Haul Your Butt Home

"Britin's First Christmas"

Shauna Fletcher

A Brian and Justin Fan Fiction

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters nor do I presume to do so.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is AU Post-Series 5. Brian and Justin are broken up and live in separate states.

**CHAPTER TWO**: Wor-Haul Your Butt Home

December 23rd. Two days until my favorite holiday in the world. This would be my first holiday in New York. I really wanted to go home for the special occasion, but I didn't think it was possibly an arrangement I could make. I had too much work to do to prepare for my first solo show on the 27th. I needed fifteen paintings and I was three short.

I was living my dream of a lifetime. It was any serious artist's dream to conquer the art world, and I, of all people, was living it. I had so many hardships in my young life that I sometimes would doubt whether or not I would ever get here. There was one person besides Debbie who would always keep me looking forward to the future, even when I was so close to giving up. The name forever engrained in my mind and my heart, Brian.

I hadn't talked to him really since I left, maybe one or two strained phone calls. It just became too difficult. I could hear it in his voice just like he could hear it in mine. As long as I lived in New York, our lives together were over. He was too busy with re-opening Babylon, and with Kinnetic flourishing now more than ever. I didn't expect anything from him; I learned that that was counterproductive. I just knew what he felt and I knew what I felt and that was enough for both of us. After he said he loved me for the first time, the first time with actual words, because he told me every day in other ways, I knew I didn't need to hear them ever again. Love isn't measured in 'I love you''s. It's measured by what they show you, what they prove to you every single day.

Now I was here without him, specifically sitting in a bench in central park not too far from my apartment. When I first moved here, I had a shitty apartment with barely adequate amounts running water. After a few combo shows with other artists, I was able to finally afford a nicer place. It wasn't Britin, but it would do for the time being.

The cool crisp December New York air chilled me to the bone. Sure Pittsburgh was cold, but this was very much different. I didn't have Brian to keep me warm in the middle of the night, as lesbianic as that sounded. He gave me everything I needed, fully encompassed me. It is that, that gave me the final push I needed to be courageous and seize my future that was finally in reach. It was all to him. Funny how things kept working out like that.

I was trying to gather inspiration from the people walking by in the park, from the snow-laden trees, from this adorable couple having a picnic. Nothing really was doing the trick though. I couldn't get inspired enough for my next brilliant painting. Whatever I painted would be brilliant of course, but something just wasn't cutting it. I had been scouting the city for a few days now trying to come up with another painting. So far, it wasn't looking very good. The show was coming up and I was nowhere, or so it seemed.

All of a sudden someone in close proximity to me cleared her throat. I didn't even realize someone was sitting on the same icicled bench that I was (showed just how preoccupied I was).

"Afternoon," I greeted her enthusiastically.

"What are you doing? I've seen you watching these people for a while."

She was an older woman, probably in her 60's, maybe late 50's, with slightly graying hair. She was wearing a silver necklace around her neck, maybe Tiffany's.

"I'm trying to come up with an inspiration for a painting. I have a show coming up in a little over a week."

"Oh, that's great, for Johnson's gallery on 32nd?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I saw the flyer. That gallery is advertising everywhere. I thought the face on the poster looked familiar."

"Oh, yeah, that's me. I know it's not a very flattering photo."

"On the contrary." She smiled gracefully. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled, reminding me of my mother.

I missed her as well, her and Molly. This would be my first Christmas without them.

I laughed and responded by thanking her. I went back to looking at the couple that I was watching which was now packing up getting ready to leave. Shit, I thought. There goes that and I barely even got a sketch. I was starting to feel really discouraged about being able to pull off this what seemed to be a great feat.

"Why the long face? Missing someone? A significant other, perhaps?"

"Yeah, that's part of it, I guess. Also, my inspiration lately has been pretty much null. I don't know what to paint."

"Do you usually get inspiration from your special person?"

"Usually is an understatement. More like always," I replied in nostalgia for the love of my life back in the Pitts.

"Maybe you need to see this person, for Christmas, and for the sake of your art show."

"He wouldn't appreciate me showing up. He isn't much for special occasions, especially birthdays. Anything where presents are exchanged."

"He sounds like a grumpy puss and a buzz killer."

I laughed. "He can be grumpy for sure. It's also part of his charm." I winked at her.

"Sounds like you miss him. How long have you been here?"

"I miss him very much. About 8 months. Seems like forever."

"Why are you here when you can be there? Surely you can paint anywhere?"

"I'm sorry, I've been talking to you and I feel so rude, I haven't gotten your name."

"I'm Angela Dreyfus."

She held out her hand and I took it in mine.

"I'm Justin. Justin Taylor. And yes, you're right. I can paint anywhere. Everyone encouraged me to try my hand at making it in New York. It is, after all, the place to be for aspiring artists."

"Well, this show is a big one. Maybe afterwards, after you make your name known, you can return home."

"Maybe, I just don't want anyone to think I'm a failure."

"No one would think that, not if you sell your fabulous paintings, and not ones that have mediocre inspirations. Maybe home is exactly where you need to be for Christmas."

"Hmm, maybe you're right."

"My work is done. I'll leave you to your day. Nice to meet you Mr. Taylor."

"I feel bad, I didn't ask anything about you."

"I'm sure you'll see me again, have a nice day Mr. Taylor."

"Justin."

"Very well, and you can call me Angela, as well."

She got up off the bench and waved goodbye. I waved also. She was very sweet. She also had a point. I wasn't getting anywhere and if I was alone on Christmas I would definitely feel depressed and that wouldn't help my inspirations to form either. It would cause them hibernate even farther in the recesses of my mind.

I really would like to see Brian, but I hoped he would welcome the intrusion, instead of giving me the third degree. Who was I kidding? Of course id' get the third degree. But I didn't care. I needed him and if he knew it was because of my art as the primary reason, he might feel better about it. Of course, my motivations were definitely not 'honest'. He wouldn't know about those, though. I would see Brian on Christmas. I missed him so much it hurt. He would cringe at my thoughts, being so lesbianic as they were. But I didn't give a shit; I left the worrying about being a dyke fall with him since he seemed preoccupied with it a lot of the time.

It was always about what other people thought about him, he didn't think I realized that, but of course I did. Lindsay trying to push me away to New York because she couldn't bare to see him, shudder, change. Only, he had, it was just everyone else that couldn't deal with that.

Things were looking up already. Pittsburgh here I come! Yuletide!


End file.
